


In the Heart of the Burning Flames, We Weep

by Linea14



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Demon AU, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Sorcerer Lance, basically ignores anything past season 3, broganes, building up trust and then breaking it, but its an au so who cares, demon keith, everyone is a mess, hoh boy here we go, idk - Freeform, pidge the actual gremlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linea14/pseuds/Linea14
Summary: Based loosely on the Bartimaeus Series.  No previous reading of it required.In a world where summoners drain their demons for their own use, Lance is an anomaly.  Though he knows that one mistake will lead to a demon destroying him and half the city with no regrets, he also knows something else.  A secret deep within his heart, that he has almost forgotten himself, but that he still chases.Trying to find his father with the help of his summoned demon, Keith, who is looking for his own brother and who acts more human than he should, Lance will find out who he truly is, and the nature of the world around them.Or: Keith stared at Lance, something vital breaking inside him as the person he thought he knew turned to face him.  This entire thing had been a lie, and he felt a rush of anger heat his veins.  It was all he had to cover the all-too human heartbreak.





	In the Heart of the Burning Flames, We Weep

**Author's Note:**

> hi, hello, hiya.  
> okay, so, this is just a rough draft. Roughest draft, the sandpaper to the fur of my cat. But my friend asked me to write it and I had an itch i suddenly couldn't scratch so! Here it is! I hope you like it ^-^
> 
> (reason i point this out, is because i'm probably going to go back in and change some things, but probably nothing too major. Probably. eh. It's like a beta run lmao.)

There was something disquieting about the rain that day.  The clouds covered the sun and later the rising full moon, casting a long grey shadow over the world below.  Maybe he was the only one who found it odd, listened to the warning in each ringing drip. After all, he knew what he was doing today, and no amount of excitement could still the panicked thump of his heart.

 

He loved the rain back home, where it was warm and ran into dirt paths instead of slick cobblestone, when the weight in the air was full of lovely promise, and not foreboding. But here it was so cold, so alien... every raindrop on his skin felt like a cry, and every cracking whip in the sky a scream of anger.

 

Every day he opened his eyes and knew that he had chosen this cold world.  Not for himself, though he would never grow tired of exploring the city, of dancing through shops full of wonders he couldn't afford.  No, he was here for his family, and that was a stronger binding than anything he could have wished for himself. They needed this more than he needed home, and always would.

 

Lance crawled out of the mess of sheets and hay that was his bed that morning, to the sound of the hollow rain and knew today was the day he either lived for his family, or died.

 

He lived in an old house on the edge of the city, too large and empty.  It might have been nice decades ago, before the floorboards warped and leaks started appearing in the ceiling, before i t was left as an abandoned shell that was once beautiful.  It was a house, but not a home. Not that he really tried to make it one, when he had other priorities.

 

Every step on the stairs creaked, even when no one was on them.  The windows were boarded, glass cracked and broken. Air curled around the house in cold swirls, drafty no matter how many times he tried to fix it.  The wood was old, and there were holes in the banister, puddles on the floor, strange noises echoing through the walls.

 

Really though, all he needed was the attic. The floorboards still creaked and mold still burrowed into the walls, but there was an obvious difference in the room. A care and protection that wasn't extended throughout the rest of the house.

 

Old bookshelves lined the sides, filled with archives and leather bound books with yellow, crinkling pages.  Old chalk lines criss-crossed the floor, and darkened wax lay melted in the dusty corners.

 

The center of the attic was set with two large pentagrams, one bigger than the other, white chalk flowing gracefully in precise measurements. Candles sat at each angle, flickering as Lance lit them.  He had exchanged his pajamas for a threadbare deep blue cloak, once dotted with dewdrops and stars. It was his mother's before she renounced her sorcery, and the faint hum of protective spells still remained woven into the fabric.  They couldn't save him if he messed this up, but it was still comforting.

 

No lightning cracked outside, there was no thunder as a warning, but fates whisper still hung hauntingly in the air.  Lance closed his eyes and thought of his family, his mother, and then the words of his father (still burning, even if he left seven long years ago).  He took a deep breath, and let the strength of raining water straighten his spine, crouching down to pick up a thick tome. This ritual was the most popular in the city, and also the least.  If you survived once, you were a true sorcerer, and could walk among the streets on tiny clouds of superiority and gold. If you didn't, well... you wouldn't be around to perform it anymore.

 

Lance let any sign of weakness smooth out and pool down at his feet where it couldn't be seen.  A quick flick of his eyes checked that candles were still burning, that drips hadn't smudged the chalk, that everything was perfect and secure.  Then he wouldn't hesitate any longer.

 

The world seemed to fade as he pulled on his magic, reaching in his mind to unfurl that summer storm.  He pulled on the cold water outside, and let the magic collect within him, way more than he had ever held before.  There were no trial runs for this. It probably should have burned, scorched him from the inside until it was all he could do to hold on, like it had for so many others.  But his mind was different,  _ he  _ was different, so it just expanded and expanded until his voice shouted out the name held tightly in his hands, shook the very house and flashed red and blue so brightly into the air.

 

People outside held their children closer, tightened their grip on their shiny black umbrellas, worried about the screams that might echo from the little house, on the very edge of town, in the dark, cold morning.  But they all watched in wonder as well, even if they could only see flashes, for summoning was a beautiful, dangerous thing. 

 

Inside the attic smoke began to coalesce in the pentagram opposite Lance's, billowing with lightning flashing in unnatural, bright red sparks.  The spirits were always ethereal, almost like wild animals, held only by the thin leash of belief, and promises. The smoke darted first one way, than another, spreading out to search for cracks in the chalk, the mistakes that would lead to its escape, and the sorcerer's death.  But he found none, and the sigils held true, and so the smoke expanded brightly once more before settling into a semi-human form, unnaturally beautiful, and adorned with great leathery wings and twisting red horns.

 

Before Lance stood a Spirit with a name too long to speak again in the twisted language of the demons, a spirit that was powerful and strong, perhaps too much so for a first summoning.  But Lance stood tall, and the rest of the ritual spilled out of his mouth in a voice commanding, and booming, tethering the spirit and him to one another. Words of servitude, and slavery.  But the spirit seemed unworried, almost bored with everything, plopping down onto the floor and scratching at the wood with a roll of its eyes. It spoke loud enough to be heard over the chanting, eyes slipping shut as it leaned back.

 

"It wont work, you know.  It never does. Humans can't bind elementals, you should know that.  You should just stop now, before I devour you."

 

Its teeth gleamed as it smiled, but the grin quickly faded as the sorcerer kept going, barely a flick of his eyes as acknowledgement.  Spirits often tried to trick sorcerers, distracting them so they would stumble, or forget a key clause in the binding. But the spirit seemed agitated beyond being foiled, it's body tightening with anger.  "Oi, dumbass, stop it. You're gonna die, it's not worth it. Go pick someone else. OI."

 

But Lance let it come to a close, and the magic in his body that had been weaving the spell stretched to accommodate for the spirits.

And there was the pain that was absent before.

 

It was burning, like magma had cracked open in his chest to sink into his lungs, his heart.  It burned in his fingertips, burned in his mouth, EVERYTHING burned and all Lance could do was choke it down.  He'd known it was coming, they always did, but to FEEL it... it was a portal to hell inside his own body, burning, burning, burning....

 

And then it was gone.  A wisp into the wind, a phantom pain, a agonizing memory.  Lance panted as the lines slid into place, and bound him and the spirit forever.

 

Lance paused a second before punching his fist into the air with a wild grin, a whoop echoing into the space loud enough to be heard in the streets below.  The chalk burned away, unnecessary now that they were bound. Lance knocked his hood back and held out his hand to the spirit, eyes wide with childlike glee.  "Hello! I'm Lance!"

 

The spirit, however, hissed and stepped back, wings arching as his jaw tightened.  "What the fuck did you do? This shouldn't be possible. I was supposed to be safe from this shit!"  Claws began to lengthen from its hands, and its face changed from human to something only seen in nightmares.  Drool dripped from rows of sharpened teeth, and the spirit crouched as its hiss turned into a low growl.

 

Lance took a half step back, surprised, staring at the creature in front of him.  It was a stark reminder that these things weren't human, and probably never have been.

 

The cool mask from earlier slipped onto his face again, the innocence in his face gone.  "My name is Lance, and I summoned you because my father gave me your name, and said I could.  He said that we might become friends, in time, but im starting to wonder if he was wrong. See, Keith, I'm not going to use a soul whip.  I'm not going to drain you dry. I'm not going to force you to do things. I didn't summon you for that. So do whatever the fuck you want, within the bounds I've given you, because I don't care."

 

In a voice that sounded profoundly wrong, coming from the face of a creature that shouldn't be able to speak, Keith snarled  "Then send me back, I can't be here. I have to- I can't-"

 

Lance looked away, the steel draining away as quickly as it had come.  "I'm afraid I can't do that, I'm sorry. My family needs me to have my certificate, and my Dad...  I can't find him. I haven't been able to find him for years now, and I'm fucking worried. Look, if you need to do something, I can help you, but I can't let you go."

 

Keith slowly changed back into his humanoid form, glaring angrily at the floor.  "I'm not going to be able to help you find your dad."

The sorcerer's face turned bitter as he began to walk downstairs, tugging gently at their bond as he went. "Unfortunately you can, but we'll talk about that later.  We need to go talk to the embassy, so they can look down on me for a few hours. While I explain why I chose to summon a tier three demon instead of the Imp apprentices are supposed to."

 

Keith slowly walked forward, trailing behind Lance as he strode towards the door, pulling a scarf from the rack and mumbling a small warming spell on his cloak.  It came from the sorcerer's own reserves instead of Keith's, which was surprising. The things he'd heard from the other spirits were... not pleasant, and that was from the better times of servitude.  Now that the panic had faded, Keith was noticing that this was wrong. It wasn't going like it should be, Lance wasn't acting like a Sorcerer holding tumultuous control over the wild beast on his leash, he wasn't afraid and he didn't have a whip in his hand.  He was almost treating him like a weird human. Which definitely was not how this was supposed to go.

 

"Stick close to me, and dissolve the wings.  Spirits aren't supposed to show signs of freedom, or some shit, so the embassy will be pissed if you show up like this.  Plus you'll probably freak the citizens out, though you'd probably find that amusing."

 

Keith moved forward warily, unused to the human world.  Sure he'd shown up a few times, but he'd never been summoned permanently, and he was fairly young for a spirit.  Extremely young really, and he'd tried to stay under the radar here. And the only times he had, he'd been preoccupied with- well.

 

He didn't know what the expect, and the sight that met him as they stepped out of the old house was simultaneously cold and breathtaking.  Lance moved forward briskly, tugging his scarf tighter and shuddering. Water was soaking into his hair, but Lance didn't seem to care, and if the small pause he gave when he'd first come outside, a tiny smile on his face, gave any indication, he even liked it.  Keith let the water burn around him, scowling at the feeling of water on his semi permanent body.

 

"Are you going to try and bite my hand off if I touch you?"

 

"Is that permission?"  Keith blinked at Lance rolled his eyes and reached out and grabbed Keith's shoulder, clucking his tongue as they began to walk again, his free hand making a complicated motion in the air.  Within a few moments they turned into an alleyway, and with a shimmer, were spat out somewhere else.

 

Keith could fly anywhere he wanted, and teleport to a certain extent, but the ease of which Lance had done that surprised him.  Again, his magic reserves hadn't been touched, but instead of looking drained Lance looked annoyed. "I keep telling them to fix that line, but I'm the only one who uses it.  Alleys feel so shady, I can only have an imp steal my wallet so many times in them before I get pissed. Anyway! Welcome to the city, where it's always fucking busy and the shops taunt you with things you can't buy.

 

Moving his attention from Lance, Keith stared out at the street in shock.  People of all types walked by, little spheres of independence capped in their black umbrellas, streaming past rows of tall buildings.  They didn't reach up to the sky, like some Keith had seen for brief moments, but every one was full of things. One store had all sorts of jewelry shining against velvet backdrops, another one looked like it had a cat in the window.  Dark maroon curtains swayed in front of a crystal ball, an old green door had windows revealing a deep bookstore. But in the center of the rows, made of white marble and shining gold filigree, was what he assumed was the Embassy. It looked like it had been crammed into a curios lane, the newness of the building ugly against the charm of the rest of the street.  Everything seemed out of place, and by Lance's still annoyed face, it was.

 

"Why... Why is it here, of all places?"

 

"Hmm?  It's the convergence of power lines, you should be able to feel it.  They won't move, and all the shops that were here before they turned this street into Sorcerer lane won't either.  So we just have this. Most of the stores have some cool sorcerer stuff though, its where my mom originally got this cloak."

 

Now that Lance mentioned it, he certainly could.  It was humming in the air,"Your mom is a sorcerer?"

 

"Yeah.  She was a pretty powerful one too, before she gave it all up for my dad.  Which got her me, and a lot of issues, because he didn't stay. Couldn't stay I guess.  She has a husband now, the dad of my siblings, but... god look at me, pouring my heart out to you.  God, I need to shut up, don't I?"

 

Keith startled slightly.  "It's fine. The... the reason I want to go back is because I'm trying to find my brother."

 

Lance paused, looking back at him consideringly.  "Huh. Thanks."

 

Keith looked away, feeling his hidden wings shuffle anxiously.  He had given Lance part of the truth. Sure, he was looking for his brother Shiro.  But shiro wasn't a demon, or a spirit. He was one hundred percent human, and his biological step brother.

 

"We have a little bit of time before I have to get to the embassy, want to look around a bit?  I know a lot of these places hire cleaning imps from sorcerers, I bet you could scare them."

 

Keith slowly smiled in response to Lance's smirk.  "Are you sure you're not the one who wants to scare them?"

 

"Hey, like I said, they keep stealing my wallets."

 

Keith looked around at the stores again, trying to pick one.  The bookstore looked cool, they didn't really have books in the ethereal plane.  But it probably also had shelves upon shelves of handwritten demon names, which would only piss him off.  He chewed on his lip for a moment before nodding. "The store with enchantments. Maybe there's something in there that can help us."

 

Lance snorted but started walking over.  "Trust me, I've checked. There's a few things that might, but nothing I can afford.  But I guess you might catch something I didn't, you guys are good at looking at loopholes."  The words seemed to make him somber for a minute before he grinned again. "Hey hey, and Shay works there!  She's Hunk's girlfriend, shes great".

 

"Hunk?"

 

"My best friend.  I- man I haven't talked to him in awhile.  Shut him out. You know how it goes or- not, I guess."

 

"Yeah, I get it."  He thinks of Shiro's disappointed face and Adam, out in the world somewhere, still thinking Shiro hadn't returned by choice. He understood that a bit too much.

 

"W-well, maybe you'll like her too.  She actually wants to be a florist, but it's the family business."  Lance pushed open the door something in his shoulders that Keith hadn't even noticed before relaxing.  "Shay darling! Where are you?"

 

A girl seemed to suddenly appear from the back, a soft smile on her lips.  "Lance! I haven't seen you in forever, is your cloak acting up again?"

 

Lance laughed, waving his hand.  "Oh it's simply lovely, don't worry, I was just on my way to the embassy and figured I'd drop in.  This is Keith."

 

Keith jerked up from where he had been staring at an imp, eyes wide.  He'd expected to be ignored, rather like a piece of auto moving furniture, but Lance was beckoning him forward.

 

"I just summoned him today, and I didn't die, it was great."

 

Shay simply stares in astonishment, before fluttering her hands in shock.  "My gosh, you actually did it? You should have told us! We were worried, I can't believe you actually managed it.  It's, umm, nice to meet you Keith, wow. I'm glad you left Lance in one piece, dear. I've got to call Hunk with this, you know, I'm surprised you haven't done it sooner."

 

"Ack, I know I know.  I wanted my certificate and everything.  Hey it turns out Keithy here-" "Don't call me that" "is also looking for someone!  Have anything?"

 

Shays easy smile fell, her eyes shadowing.  "Oh, Lance... you know I don't think you should be looking for him.  It's really not safe."

 

Lance winked and drummed his fingers on the glass display case, but his smile was thin.  "You know I can handle it, dear. Is that amulet still here? Keith might want to look at it."

 

With another worried glance between the two of them, Shay leaned down and pulled out a key.  "All enchanted objects have a cost, Lance. Little things like your cloak just need some touch ups now and then, but things like finding charms can suck out your very soul, or being, I suppose.  Some of the sorcerers who come in here, they... they're missing so much of themselves, and they don't even realize that they don't have any heart left, that, no offense Keith, they're just as bad as the spirits they pretend to control.  I know you're  _ different _ , but you can't lose your heart, Lance.  It's too important."

 

"Hey, you know I can't afford it anyway.  I'm being careful, I promise. I just want to look."

 

With a final sigh she sets it on the counter, and everything in Keith recoils.  It's... it's wrong, like oil on his tongue, and everything in Keith's body screams at him to leave.  It's filled with essence, but not a whole spirit. Usually these things are powered by lesser spirits, which is awful but he doesn't mind, necessarily, but THIS.  It's like someone took a tier 1 spirit, a dragon maybe, and broke them into a thousand little pieces.

 

"Did you make this?"  He ignores Lance's worried look, trying to keep ahold of the fire screaming in his veins.

 

"Of course not, we make awful things, but nothing like this.  Someone traded this to me in a really lopsided deal in my favor, I guess they just wanted to be rid of it.  The thing is a quite powerful charm, but it's not really a finding charm. It's- have you heard of the myth of hellhounds?  Once you tell this thing to track something, it will never stop tracking them. It has multiple uses, but it's a really dark piece of magic.  I'm sure some sorcerers wouldn't mind using it, but I'll probably never actually sell this. I can't sell it to someone I don't trust, and no one I trust is willing to use it."

 

"I can see why.  You.. you should destroy it if you can.  It's, there's something very wrong with it.  Thank you for showing it but-"

 

She nods, smiling again.  "I understand, don't worry.  I'm sorry that it bothers you."

 

"The person I want to find, I don't want to taint them with this."

 

Lance cocked his head slightly, but didn't comment.  "Well we came in for that and to see your beautiful face, but the Embassy gets cranky when people try to come in past noon, so we should hurry.  I'll definitely be back soon, I have to see Hunk! Gods and Pidge, I haven't seen that gremlin in forever. I bet she'd like Keith."

 

Shay laughs and starts to shoo Lance out of the store.  "Go and get your certificate, I know you're dying to get it.  But I'm holding you to that promise! We'll send Pidge to get you if you don’t!" 

 

Lance winked as he stepped out of the store, but his joyful countenance almost immediately faded into exhaustion.  He stared up for a minute, at the grey clouds that still rained down on them, his eyes cutting to the marble hall that stood as a stark reminder of the Sorcerers rule.  He always felt strange walking among them, watching their haughty stances and their arrogant eyes, trying to hide the weight of the spirits feeding on them, even as they fed on them.  They claimed they were superior and sat in their golden chairs, the regular world nothing but ants beneath their feet. It was such a strange way to live, the generations of backstabbing and the quiet wars that were run through imps and the silent spirits, always the damning spirits, leashed by nothing but a word and ready to tear through anything they could.  But Lance hadn’t been raised in that loop, that endless cycle of hate and untouchable people, swaying in their hourglass of mistakes until they drowned beneath the sands of their own sins. He had one foot in the door, and what outside in the sweet summer of his home, and more likely than not it was going to tear him in two. Maybe he’d let it.

 

His father’s emotionless face hovered in his mind as he walked, unsure if he was a mouse walking into a lion’s den, or a wolf amongst sheep.  Keith trailed behind him in confident steps, not that he’d ever let himself have anything less, and his red eyes watched everything in curiosity and daring, just intrigued enough that if there was a mistake, he might not flee straight away.  Maybe he’d never get the opportunity, but he couldn’t allow that, either- not with his brothers disappearance still weighing down his every breath.

 

Neither spoke as they traded the rain and Shay’s warm shop for the facade of the Embassy, Lance donning a different set of lies, firming his step and walking with his shoulders back, his chin up and eyes scanning the crowd with a look of someone who is powerful, and knows it.  Keith felt chills run up his back at the change, but when Lance paused to run a gentle hand across his back he understood. Somehow he had decided to follow Lance, maybe because something deep in his gut was telling him this was how he’d finally find Shiro, after a year of searching.  He had always run on instinct anyway. He nodded to Lance, let him see that the fire in his eyes wasn’t going out, and then let his own lie fall over his skin. His eyes flicked downwards, his jaw clenched slightly, his fists curled and uncurled in the strange manner of the spirits who were chained, and restless.  He became a demon barely caged, and it didn’t truly take much effort. It was who he was, after all.

 

People parted around them, both the normal citizens and the low level sorcerers, with a few imps at their command and no matter, but the true sorcerers simply watched with hawkish eyes.  Sizing up their new enemy, because that was what he and Lance had become.

 

Keith didn’t question as they strode through the hall and towards grand staircase, but filed away questions for later.  Wondering what he could get away with. He smirked at an imp and watched it scuttle back, too small wings barely holding up it’s ugly body.

 

“I need to see the council.”

 

Keith focused his attention back on Lance, and the receptionist who looked up at him with obvious.  “Lance McClain, I have already explained to you-”

 

“Oh, you misunderstand.  I’m here because I completed my first summoning.  Surely you have some papers to give me?”

 

Her previously bored expression turned sour, and she pulled out a file and set it onto the counter with a glare and a heavy thump.  She barely spared a glance for Keith, but then she snapped back to stare at him. Her sour lips slackened, and the tight grip she had on the folder loosened.  “That’s not an imp.”

 

Lance leaned forward with a sharp grin, lips pulled almost into a snarl when he spoke.  “No, it really isn’t.”

 

It was a flashy piece of magic he didn't need, not when there was a cup of pens right next to him on the desk, but he held his hand out and a gleaming quill slid into his fingers.  It didn’t even use any of Keith’s magic, but he kept the glimmer of amusement to the thin bond between them. Lance tossed the files back onto the desk once he signed them with a flourish, striding forward without a second glance.

 

The fancy set of doors boomed open, and Lance watched them without lifting a finger.  His magic was barely even strained as he moved into the room, his eyes flickering across the seven seats that represented the High Sorcerers of the city.  The entire council was actually every ranking sorcerer, and they came together to vote occasionally, but usually everything was run by the high council.

 

Lance hated every single one of them.  The head of the group said nothing as Lance bowed mockingly, his rank 2 demon curled on his lap.  He had more, to be the head of everything, but she was the one he showed to everyone. The one he used as his executioner.  Keith felt something in him shrink back at the sight of her, especially so tightly bound. His body tightened with the need to run away, to flee from someone so much more powerful than he was.  But he stood his ground- he had to, couldn’t actually move.

 

“High Council, I have come to show you my summon.  I call him Keith, a fire elemental of demon class.”

 

There was a long silence before the man spoke, the others behind him simply watching with shrewd eyes.  They didn’t speak unless they were behind closed doors, but you could feel their judgement nonetheless. The man spoke, booming, voice filled with the power he so obviously wielded.  “This is not an imp. Surely you know the guidelines for becoming a sorcerer?”

 

“Of course, High Council.  The imp was never actually written into the rules, it’s simply… a suggestion, if you will.”

 

“It’s to keep people from being killed.  Your infraction has been noted.”

 

Lance didn’t outwardly flinch, but Keith felt it.  “At least you don’t have to wonder if I have enough power.  The result here is obvious.”

 

The man waited, his cloak a deep purple and pressed, making Lance’s look practically ratty in comparison.  Jewels bedecked his fingers, and multiple necklaces settled around his neck. His hands rested on the high armrests of his throne, and it’s solidly hewn structure was meant to be uncomfortable.  The man, however, looked unaffected by everything, like he would be unaffected by anything, and sat with a grace most other sorcerers only played at. He finally dipped his head. “We’ll see. Lance McClain, you have been inducted into the Council.  We don’t like cleaning up collateral damage, don’t disappoint us.”

 

And then it was done, Lances magical grip firm, and only for show, as they left the room.  Keith looked back to see the secretary nod and tap Lance’s application, the papers disappearing into a shower of sparks.  It was then that he realized the importance of the room. Though it was just for show, even though the entire damn council was just for show, that room was the difference between life and death.

 

Lance, on the other hand, was only focusing on the future.  With a permit, and then a license, he could practice magic for gold.  And most importantly, he could use the extensive libraries locked away within the embassy.  Most of the information there was useless, as no family was willing to give up power to the others, but what he was looking for wasn’t something the families would keep.  No, not at all.

 

As they exited the building, the first flash of lightning of the day flashed across the sky, and thunder boomed, and all around them all the worn down people kept walking.  Kept crying. Kept dying. After all, they were just drops in a large, large sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to the NoBeen UchiBas \^o^/
> 
> come say hi on my tumblr: starsspectre
> 
> if you follow any of my other stuff... im so sorry... im... jajkdljakfdnfkldsjl


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